flowers fit for fantasists
by Coins Compressed
Summary: There's tradition, there's trying out new things, and then there's absurdity. /RoBul; valentine's fluff. oneshot; au.


**an**: a valentine's fic and an impromptu present. seems fitting enough! it's RoBul, if that's not your pairing look away now. i place them at about seventeen or so here, imagine it's a gakuen offshoot :P

**warnings: **incredibly predictable and cheesy fluff, possible OOC

**names used: **sasho iliev = bulgaria; vadim popescu = romania

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**flowers fit for fantasists**

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Within an ever-changing world in which a nod just doesn't mean no anymore, Sasho Iliev knows two things to be certain.

Firstly, flowers are incredibly boring, from their roots to their stem to their prissy petal-heads.

Secondly, Vadim Popescu is the most irritating person on the planet, and this is truer than truth.

Well. Perhaps the date is another trustworthy concept, because people rarely make errors with calendar production. It's February 14th, and all good Bulgarians know what day that is – it's the unofficial feast day of Saint Tryphon the Trimmer, obviously. Wouldn't do for a grand Eastern European nation like his own to adopt the Hesperian traditions of St. Valentine's Day; it's all rather tacky and Sasho is sturdy enough to be Orthodox.

See, Sasho's father works out in the vine fields. Bulgarian wine cannot be beaten (mostly) and Sasho's father is good at what he does (occasionally), so this is rightly their day for praying to Tryphon and gaining fertility with their plants. Surely that's far more romantic than chocolates.

It's possibly more interesting than _flowers, _anyway, but Sasho wouldn't know. His mother has gallivanted off with his father and he, being of student age and permanent bankruptcy, has been left to take care of her florist shop.

That in itself wouldn't be too bad. Bouquets have already been arranged, displays have already been sorted – Sasho's town is not vastly populated, so he won't exactly be receiving a great deal of customers in the absence of his parents. His only job is to sit behind the counter, glaring towards the door whenever the bell chimes to alert him of a client appearing, flicking through books and newspapers and magazines to while away the time.

The bad thing – and it's a bad thing that's really quite bad – is Vadim Popescu, who is still the most irritating person on the planet.

Sasho didn't even need to look up to know it was Vadim, when Vadim made his entrance. He waltzed in with a greeting in cursed Latin, wearing a grin big enough to give him perfect deranged chic, and now he's sitting down against the front of Sasho's counter.

This is all perfectly normal.

For a while, Sasho says nothing. He finishes off reading an article about his local football team before deciding he should probably find out what's bothering the Romanian that's taken refuge in the Iliev family store.

"Are you all right?"

Vadim shifts a bit. He pulls his legs up to his chin, hugs his knees. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine to me," Sasho says, leaning forward in his chair to peer over the edge of the table. "Did you cause spontaneous combustion in Lukas again? That wasn't fun, last time-"

"No," Vadim says, but he doesn't sound angry. "I am… unprepared."

Sasho raises an eyebrow, sets aside the newspaper. "If you're buying into another Apocalypse theory…"

"That's not the case, but I am glad you have opened your mind to the possibility," Vadim replies, resting back his head to meet Sasho's inquisitive gaze. He's grinning, a tooth lodged into the pink plush of his bottom lip; Sasho takes on a frown and subconsciously covers his neck with his hand.

"You didn't open my mind to anything, I just _know_ you. You're probably here to share some awful secret with me that I'd rather not have heard to begin with."

"Well, we are _best friends. _That's what _best friends _do."

"Disturb each other?"

"Who else am I meant to tell?"

Sasho sighs, leans back in his chair; he's not allowed to prop his feet up on the counter in case he gets it dirty, but he's feeling extremely rebellious and does so anyway. "All right, all right. But when I say stop, you have to take that as gospel."

"Will do," Vadim says eagerly. He pops up – not the full way, mind, but just enough to have the nub of his nose resting on the table's surface, dark eyes wide and staring. "You see, my brother, I am _unprepared_."

"So you've said," Sasho replies, adopting a grin in place of his grimace. "If not for the Apocalypse, then for what?"

"For the… celebrations." Vadim raises a hand into view, shakes it as if dismissing something; it just makes Sasho's grin widen enough to rival Vadim's earlier moronic beam.

"Do you mean the celebrations for our good friend Tryphon?" he asks. "Don't worry. I'm not really doing anything either. I get to sneak some wine later if you want to come over, but apart from that I'm here to work."

"Working's good," Vadim says, "because it earns you money. Money buys things."

He's speaking as if he's the first person to understand that concept, awed and soft; Sasho shakes his head to stop himself from laughing.

"Yeah, that's the general point. To what influence should I credit your revelation?"

Vadim closes his eyes, tight. His nose crinkles and his signature hat slips a bit, furrow twitching from the strain. "I am unprepared for Valentine's Day."

At that, Sasho frowns. He knows Vadim is Romanian by nationality, yes, but he also knows for a fact that St. _Valentine's_ Day is not generally observed in either his or Vadim's homelands. There would certainly be no reason for Vadim to care about grand romantic gestures anyway. _Best friends _is a title he doesn't mind applying to himself and his associate when paired, surely a sign of dedication – and his status as such has given him insight into Vadim's love-life. Namely, he doesn't have one.

He's a bit of a strange guy. Sasho doesn't mind it, even if Vadim sometimes finds it difficult to walk away from interactions with others without scarring them deeply, but he sometimes worries that Vadim gets lonely by himself.

(Maybe it's a bit weird that he worries in the first place.)

"Do _you _get lonely by yourself?" Vadim asks, an eyebrow raised. He finally gets to his feet, hands clasped behind his back, tilting his head in a gesture of curiosity.

Sometimes, Sasho is stupid, and he forgets Vadim can't read him like a book.

(They just know each other well, is all. It's not like Vadim's psychic or anything.)

"No, not really. I dunno. I've never met the right person – my parents aren't exactly pushing me into anything right now, so I don't think I have to worry about it too much yet."

"They want you to work on the vine fields."

"Yeah, I'm _so _excited about that. Truly."

"Flowers," Vadim says. He lips quirk upwards into a lazy smile and he presses a finger to his curved lips, movements sufficiently quick to have no real transition. "I'm looking for flowers and this is a florists, don't you think that's convenient? It's almost convenient enough for anyone to think I _planned _my visit."

Sasho groans. He gets to his feet, scratching at the back of his neck; _this _is why Vadim is so irritating. "Yeah, okay. Now I see what you're after. What do you want them for, really…?"

"Let's play a game," Vadim says.

He's already turning on his heel to approach the opposite wall. It's lined with bunches galore, some garishly bright and others tastefully balanced, all contained with delicate little vases that have not been in the Iliev lineage for generations, but look old enough for it.

Well, Sasho has no real choice but to follow. He shoves his hands into his pockets, says, "What do you mean by 'game'? I don't really like playing games with you."

"That's staggeringly hurtful," Vadim lies blatantly, "but I'm going to forgive you just this once, because I need your help. I don't know much about flowers."

"Neither do I."

"You have to know _something, _brother."

"Not really."

Vadim just grins. He seizes Sasho by the wrist, the contact surprisingly warm for someone wearing alchemist gloves, and tugs Sasho along to the other side of the shop, to the separately-set flowers waiting to be set together.

"I want you," he says, and then he pauses. It's not a good place to pause, but Sasho gives him the benefit of the doubt. "I want you to tell me which ones are the best. You have good taste."

"Not really," Sasho says again, returning the grin. He gently eases away his hands, pressing both palms to a wooden shelf decorated with stickers that state individual prices. "So. What's the game? I tell you stuff about flowers like I'm fucking _Feliciano Vargas_, and you tell me why you're pretending to do Valentine-y things?"

"Exactly," Vadim replies with a nod (should be a shake of the head). "I'm bored, just humour me."

"All right…"

Sasho takes a step back. He wants to get a better view of everything his mother stocks before he makes a decision, twisting his mouth in thought; there's a lot in reserve but really, he can't name many of the species before him.

"Hm," he says, and then, "What kind of person is it for?"

Vadim's response is sing-song swift. "A person of romantic interest."

"Aww, c'mon. You can't just dangle information like that in front of me and then not tell me who it is. _Best friends, _remember? We share our secrets!"

"You'll find out in a minute," Vadim insists. He reaches out, picking up a stray violet from the chrysanthemum section to put it back with its kin. "Roses are red, violets are—"

"Shit," interrupts Sasho. "You've given me a good idea for once."

"I find that kind of hard to believe."

"But really, think about it! Roses! Everyone's good with roses. Want to know an interesting and necessary fact about roses?"

"S'ppose so."

"I admire your enthusiasm," Sasho says, striving out to pat Vadim's shoulder a few times in slow succession. "But no, really. Red roses are the national flower here – if you're trying to woo one of us I guess it's something you could break the ice with. Besides. Roses are just _typical. _Can't be any worse giving someone roses than it would be giving them regular flowers."

Vadim nods again, _irritating, _and Sasho reaches back to the taller pots in the middle, each containing cellophane-held bouquets ready to take away. They're the most popular designs, of course, with red-rose bouquets never exactly drifting out from consumer's tastes.

"Just take it," Sasho says gruffly, thrusting one out into Vadim's general direction. "On the house. Er. Building."

It's a bit weird, really, giving Vadim flowers. Even if it's not in the sense one would expect, because Sasho has never dreamt of being linked to Vadim in _that _way, never been enticed by a smile or rendered curious by a choice comment.

And if he has, it was only because he was bored. Naturally.

"But I want to pay you," Vadim says, taking the bouquet all the same. He holds the wrapped stems gently with one hand, runs his other one over the petals, ruffling them like he's never held such a thing before – it would not surprise Sasho to learn Vadim usually burns flowers upon contact.

"You don't have to," Sasho insists. "You're my friend."

He puts his hands back into his pockets, expecting Vadim to say something; when he doesn't, there's silence. In general comfortable, currently anything but.

"Thank you," Vadim says, looking up with another toothy smile.

(He really needs to see a dentist, Sasho thinks. He slides one hand straight back out of his pocket because it's gravitating once more to his neck.)

"No worries. But now you've got to tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Who the girl is! Do I know her?"

At first, Vadim says nothing, simply keeps up his expression. He cradles the bouquet in his arms and keeps his eyes fixed to Sasho's, speaking again only when Sasho's blank face begins to take on a look of anxiety at the staring.

"Now, I am prepared," Vadim says. He pushes past Sasho, the exit door suddenly far more interesting to look at, apparently. "But I still need to find one thing, if you'd be prepared to help me with it."

Sasho glances over. "Yeah…? Within reason."

"A Valentine."

"Oh." And Sasho laughs like he had before, this time perhaps a bit more mocking; he can't help it, not around him. "Sorry, that's – that's not how it works. You ask someone out _first_."

"Well then."

Vadim pauses, and looks back across his shoulder. His smile is softer and Sasho returns it, only for his mouth to fall open surprised when he hears the next line that escapes Vadim's mouth.

"You're the one I've cast a spell for, so we'll discuss it over that wine."

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**x-x**


End file.
